Super Vs Natural
by OldNarnian
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester are good at demon. You might even say they're the best. But when it comes to human foes, they have a little more trouble. Especially this strange British human that seems to know exactly where they will be next. Sherlock is hired to find and bring justice to two American brothers by the name of Winchester.


Super vs Natural

John walked around the flat with a towel over his wet hair. He walked to the window, expertly stepping over odd bits and pieces of things Sherlock had strewn about last night during a frustrating attack of boredom. When he made it to the large window he lifted the towel and peeked out.

There was a man, standing in front of the door, checking his phone. He was dressed in a crumpled suit and had a bag slung over his shoulder. John guessed with a laptop inside.

"Sherlock." He announced. "I think we've got a client."

Sherlock looked up from where he was mixing suspicious liquids in the kitchen.

"I hope it's not another boring 'why doesn't my wife love me' case." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "People can be so tedious and predictable."

"He's going to knock." John ignored Sherlock's last remark. "Mrs. Hudson is letting him in." John threw the towel across the back of a chair and wandered into the kitchen to put tea on.

"Remember to be polite." He hissed to Sherlock as Mrs. Hudson opened the door poked her head in.

"You boys expecting someone?" She asked.

"Yes." Sherlock said. "Let him in."

She stepped out of the way and allowed an average sized man around fifty years of age with short black hair with a streaks of grey and a few days' worth of scruff on his face.

"Sherlock Holmes?" He asked, nodding towards Sherlock, who nodded back and waved the man to sit down in the chair. "I apologize for not making an appointment but I'm only in London for a few more days and I thought it best to see what you could do for me."

John noted the clipped tone and the American accent as he sized up the man. Sherlock still hadn't said anything but his eyes traveled over the man and John knew he was learning more than words could tell.

"I just put the kettle on. Would you care for some tea or coffee?" John asked.

"Coffee, please, would be great."

The man sat down in the chair and Sherlock sat across on the couch, still staring intently at him.

"Enjoying your visit to London?" Sherlock asked finally. "The family is well, I trust?"

The man looked slightly surprised. "Yes, they actually told me about you, showed me all your work in the papers and news... See, they said you could help."

"I can..." Sherlock said carefully. "That doesn't mean I will. You have to present your case in a manner that will interest me."

The American nodded.

John set a cup of coffee in front of the man and a cup of tea in front of Sherlock and then settled on another chair at his desk with his own tea.

Sherlock suddenly reached out and grabbed the American's wrist. "New cuff links?" He asked as he inspected the bright pieces of metal on his cuffs. "I've been meaning to buy new ones, would you recommend any?"

"Um, they were a birthday present." The American replied, pulling his wrist away. Sherlock didn't look offended but settled back on the couch with his fingers resting under his chin.

The American cleared his throat and John shook his head at Sherlock.

"My name is Andrew Bree I work for the FBI." The American began. "I could be fired and jailed if anyone found out what I'm about to tell you." He pulled out the laptop from his bag and started it up. "A few years ago, there was a trail of murders. All young females, tortured and killed in their own homes before anyone could be alerted."

"I trust you found the murderer?" Sherlock said.

Andrew nodded. "A man by the name of Dean Winchester. A 26 year old, 6"2 white male. But we found him shot and killed in the house of the latest victim." He pulled up a picture of a man John guessed was Dean who was obviously dead. "We thought that was the last of it but then he was caught on camera robbing a bank a few years later." He pulled a video of the same man in the doorway of a bank, yelling something. "There were many casualties but when our SWAT team went in, he was… gone."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything.

"We put our best man on it and eventually we got him and his brother, Sam Winchester, who was also charged with breaking and entering, grave desecration, murder and assisted murder."

"Grave desecration?" John asked, surprised.

Andrew nodded. "They're psychopaths."

Sherlock winced at that word.

"Anyways, Hendrick was holding them at a local jail before we could come and pick them up but the whole place exploded and killed six people, including, we guessed, Sam and Dean Winchester." He pulled up a news report about the station being blown up. "But then a few years later, who's being charged with mass murdering? Sam and Dean Winchester." He pulled up another video. "They've killed countless people."

The video was of the two men in a crowded fast-food restaurant, gunning down the whole place. John felt his jaw go slack. The amount of blood…

"But they were declared dead again… You won't judge me for not buying it, I hope."

"The FBI buy it." Sherlock made an assumption.

"Yes." Andrew admitted.

"So why are you here? Why do you care?"

Andrew hesitated. "You have to believe I'm desperate here." He said. "I've come to you and told you everything with almost no knowledge of who you are and told you all about an unsolved case…"

"So it's personal." Sherlock said. "Who are the Winchesters to you?"

The man stayed silent.

"They killed someone close to you… your child?"

The man narrowed his eyes and locked gazes with Sherlock. "How did you know that?" He asked.

"Your screen saver is a picture of a young girl with the dates 1988-2006."

"She was one of the first victims of Dean Winchester." The man voice was surprisingly steady. "And my brother, later, was killed in one of the mass shootings they committed."

"You want them to pay for their crimes."

"You don't understand what it's like to get a call, saying your baby girl has been- or your brother…" He took a deep breath and shut his eyes. John's heart went out to him.

Andrew opened his eyes again and settled his features back into place. "Payment will not be an issue, I can assure you."

"You want me to find two American brothers that have died multiple times and you believe are _somewhere _in America, still alive?" Sherlock asked. "Payment will not be in issue, I am intrigued." Sherlock stood. "You will email me every file, picture and detail you have on the Winchester brothers. John and I will leave for America before the end of the week, I fear I have a few personal matters to work out."

The man's face flooded with relief and John rolled his eyes. Of course Sherlock would assume he was just going to drop everything and run off to America with him. It's not like he had a job… or a THIRD date with that Bella girl from the office.

After Andrew left, John raised his eyebrow at Sherlock, who was laying on the couch with his fingertips resting under his chin.

"'A few personal matters'?" John asked. "Like what?"

"Ooh, John." Sherlock breathed carefully. "Did you see him?"

"Who Andrew?"

"That wasn't Andrew."

John blinked. "You've met him before then?"

"You're a doctor!" Sherlock sat up and John flinched at the feverish light in his eyes, he longed to reach out and feel his forehead for a temp but he knew Sherlock would probably throw him across the room. "Didn't you see?"

"See what? He seemed nice." John shrugged.

"He was dead."

John laughed. "Well, I've never known you to be wrong but I think I've finally found it."

"He was dead, that was just a corpse. When I was looking at his cuff links, there was no pulse."

John scoffed and sipped his tea. "You can't possibly… I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation. He probably just had a weak pulse or something."

"His pupils… they didn't change the whole time. They stayed the same size."

"Sherlock, there's no way we just had a conversation with a dead man."

The detective laid back down and settled in his resting position. Dropping the subject and refused to talk to John for the rest of the day, despite his multiple attempts and offers of food and drink.

The gears in Sherlock's mind were spinning faster than they had in days and he relished the feeling. He laid on the couch and let his mind run.

John took the next day off work and went to get his passport renewed, called Bella to cancel their third date and started packing for him and Sherlock.

"How long do you supposed we'll be in America?" John asked.

"Pack for at least a month…" Sherlock mused. "I doubt it will take that long but it'd be nice to be prepared, shopping in the States is atrocious."

"Do you want the flight that leaves at five am tomorrow or the one that leaves at nine pm?"

"Nine pm... Less people will be on that flight."

John tapped at his computer and then clicked it shut. "Alright. I've bought the tickets."

Sherlock didn't respond.


End file.
